


Super Nomad!

by roe87



Series: Bucky as a D.C. heroine au [2]
Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: 1970s, Action, Action & Romance, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bad Flirting, Bucky as Lois Lane, Bucky is 24, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, First Meetings, Flirting, Fluff, Identity Porn, Journalism, M/M, Nomad Steve Rogers, Nomad has swagger, Nomad's Titty Window, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Reporters, Secret Identity, Shrunkyclunks, Shy Steve Rogers, Steve as Clark Kent, Steve is about 30, Steve is hopeless, Superheroes in Spandex, Superman AU, Twink Bucky Barnes, alter ego
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15814902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roe87/pseuds/roe87
Summary: It's 1976.Disenfranchised with the American government and its corruption, Captain Steven G. Rogers sheds his stars and stripes mantle of Captain America in favour of a new secret identity: The Nomad.Fighting crime and oppression on the streets of New York for its good citizens, Steve fights for truth, justice, and the American way: Nomad will help anyone who is in need.But can Nomad help his own hapless alter ego, Steve Smith, win a date with intrepid young reporter, Bucky Barnes, the object of Steve's affections?Can Steve juggle a love life and being Nomad at the same time? (He'll give it a damn good try!)





	1. The Almost Date

**Author's Note:**

> This au is based on some elements from [Superman: The movie (1978)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=78N2SP6JFaI), but it's not necessary to have seen it to read this fic.
> 
> Also, Steve has his 'regular' super soldier powers, so it's canon for Steve.
> 
> Hope you enjoy the camp, spandex fun!
> 
> ~

~

 

 

 

 

_Thursday night._

_7:30 PM._

 

Steve Rogers had a date.

Well, more accurately, Steve's new secret identity, Steve Smith, had a date. He was going by Smith now, and wearing big black-rimmed glasses, and oversized cheap suits in order to disguise his muscular build.

Nobody suspected mild mannered reporter, Steve Smith, new hire at The Daily Marvel, of anything. In fact, most people ignored Steve, or didn't pay him much attention. Which was fine, as he was just trying to keep his head down and not get noticed, at least in work.

On the streets, that was another matter.

Since ditching his Captain America mantle, Steve had taken up a new identity, and this one was entirely independent from any governing body or military organisations.

Steve was The Nomad, a champion for the people. No longer Shield's lackey, or the government's, no, Steve was fighting the good fight for anyone who needed his help.

And as Steve made his way through the streets of the Village, on his way to a queer friendly bar to meet his date, he heard noises down an alley with his enhanced hearing: glass shattering, shouting...

And a homophobic slur he couldn't ignore.

Steve stopped, glancing around the dark street to check no one else was watching, then he ducked down the alley, ripping his shirt open to reveal his Nomad costume underneath. He pulled the mask from his pocket, quickly slipping it over his head and into place, following the shouts and pleas.

When Steve arrived on the scene, he saw three thugs with baseball bats circled around one young man, someone Steve recognised from the Village.

Steve clenched his fists, called out, "Hey! Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

The thugs paused, turned their attention to Steve.

"This don't concern you, pal," one sneered.

"Hey, look." Another pointed at Steve with his bat. "It's one of them costumed clowns."

"Beat it, clown!" the first thug warned.

Steve grinned, and cracked his knuckles. "I'll beat it, alright."

Then he leapt in among them, kicking and punching them away from the victim. The thugs went flying into brick walls and dumpsters, knocked out cold.

"Hey," Steve said gently, bending down to help the young man up from the ground. "You alright?"

"Please," the man looked at Steve with fear in his eyes, "there's more of them. They've gone to my home, said they're going to teach my family a lesson. My mother and baby sister, they're all alone."

Steve set his jaw. "What's your address? Tell me."

The young man gave Steve an address that was nearly twelve blocks away, but Steve also knew that if they called the police, they'd never make it in time either, _if_ they even showed up.

"Leave it to me," Steve said, and patted the man's shoulder. Then he hurried over to the nearest fire escape, climbing quickly so he could get on top of the building.

Once on the flat building top with no one else around, Steve shed the rest of his civilian clothes, hoping he could come back for them later. His cape billowed free behind him, and Steve ran across the rooftops, vaulting between the building gaps.

If he hurried, hopefully he could get back in time for his date.

 

~

 

 

_8:45 PM_

 

 

Bucky Barnes checked his watch again, feeling increasingly annoyed. Steve was forty-five minutes late, which was at least twenty minutes more than the average New Yorker was allowed, and Bucky had run out of patience.

It was starting to look less like Steve was late, and more like Bucky had been plain old stood up.

He huffed to himself, surprised more than anything. Steve was just... Well, he was such a quiet and unassuming _dork_ , that Bucky really hadn't expected to be stood up by him. Especially when he'd seemed so thrilled that Bucky even said yes to getting a drink together in the first place.

Bucky looked around at the bar, scanning the patrons yet again. No sign of Steve.

The bar was cosy, friendly, and could pass as a straight bar if the wrong tourists wandered in. It was only if you knew it already, or knew what to look for, could it be recognised as a gay hangout.

Bucky was sitting at the bar alone, and on any usual night he'd have welcomed guys coming up to talk to him, offering to buy him a drink. Bucky had thought tonight would be different, because he had a date, and that was kind of a novelty.

But so far Bucky had spent his date sitting by himself, fielding off advances from a couple guys showing interest, and now regretting it as he watched them chat to other men instead.

Bucky glanced at the doors when they opened, hoping to see Steve walk through, but it was just some old guy with a beard.

Bucky sighed, frustrated. He fished in his pocket to pay for his drinks, and said to the bartender, "Your payphone working, Marv?"

Marv, the ageing owner, shook his head. "Nope, but you can use my phone if it's local."

"It's local," Bucky said, getting down from his stool. "Thanks, Marv."

"No sweat." Marv pointed him to the end of the bar, and Bucky walked around to use the old, sticky phone tucked under the counter.

He dialled the number he had for Steve, putting his finger in his other ear to drown out the bar's music.

It rang and rang, but no answer.

Bucky replaced the handset, wondering if he should call up the The Daily Marvel office instead, ask if Steve was there.

That would be kind of embarrassing if anyone found out they'd meant to have a date, though.

Bucky didn't call the office. He decided he'd give Steve another twenty minutes, then that was it. He'd just go home after that.

Bucky headed back to his seat, when he noticed the small TV set behind the bar was showing breaking news.

"Hey, Marv," Bucky said, "can you turn that up?"

Marv turned up the TV, and everyone at the bar watched as the reporter from Channel Six News told the camera, "Police responded to an urgent 911 call about an armed hostage situation in the apartment block behind me, but when they arrived on the scene, the hostages were already freed and the men who'd held them were tied up in a dumpster in the alley. Witnesses reported sightings of masked vigilante, The Nomad, retreating over the rooftops only moments ago."

"Shit," Bucky muttered, and went to grab his coat. "Anyone know where that address is?"

"Few blocks downtown," Marv said.

One of the bar regulars nodded. "Yeah, maybe ten blocks."

"Thanks!" Bucky said, and ran out the door. Out on the street, he frantically tried to hail a cab.

If there was a Nomad story, Bucky wanted to cover it.

 

~

 

 

_9:07 PM_

 

 

Steve got to the bar over an hour late, and prepared himself for a thorough reaming as he stepped in the door.

But when he scanned the bar, Steve couldn't see Bucky anywhere.

Maybe he'd gone to the bathroom, Steve thought.

He swallowed nervously, adjusting his civilian clothes, and his glasses, and edged his way carefully through the bar and its patrons.

Steve looked all over, but Bucky wasn't there. With a sinking heart, Steve asked the bartender if he'd seen a young brunet waiting earlier.

The bartender grinned. "You mean Bucky?"

"Oh, um..." Steve nodded. "Yeah. Is he here?"

"He was earlier, but he left when he saw the news about Nomad."

Steve's eyes widened a little. "News...?"

"Yeah, on TV. He left in quite a hurry after that."

"Did he say he was coming back?" Steve asked.

The bartender only shrugged, so Steve thanked him for his time and left him alone. Steve wondered whether he should wait around in case Bucky did come back, or even head back to the scene of the attempted crime he'd just stopped, and try to find Bucky there.

But, Steve knew from experience having worked with Bucky in the field, once the young man had the scent of a story, he was like a bloodhound.

Steve wouldn't be surprised if Bucky went straight to the Marvel office that night to type up whatever story he wanted to write.

Steve had missed his chance, he knew that.

Another missed opportunity in the life of Steve Rogers.

Steve left the bar, stuck his hands in his pockets and started walking slowly home.

 

 

 


	2. The Day After

 

_Friday morning. Eight AM._

 

 

 

Steve got into work early, as normal, and got on with his work that he'd been assigned, and also the stories he'd been working on himself to cover the ongoing civil rights movement that he hoped his editor would approve.

Also, Steve wanted to be in early to prepare to face Bucky. Their desks were next to each other, and had been since Steve joined The Daily Marvel nearly five months ago.

Steve's crush on Bucky had started the day he first saw him too, but it'd taken a while for Steve to work up the courage to speak more than a few words to him. Bucky was... 

Well, Bucky was pretty amazing. It was hard not to notice him in the office: Bucky was bright, witty, incredibly charming and also very handsome.

To say Steve was smitten would've been the understatement of the century. He couldn't help it though, Bucky occupied a lot of Steve's thoughts since they'd started working side by side.

Probably he was a little young for Steve but, technically, _everyone_ was a little young for Steve, as he'd been born in 1918 and frozen in ice since 1945.

He'd only been out of the ice a few years, after The Avengers found him and thawed him out. What did that make Steve now, not counting his years on ice? Maybe... Thirty-one? Thirty-two?

Steve hadn't really thought about it until he'd met Bucky, who was only twenty-four.

That wasn't too big an age gap, Steve hoped. He hadn't dated anyone seriously in this new time, but now he actually felt he was in a better place to be able to commit to someone again.

And, as luck would have it, Bucky had caught his eye.

Bucky caught a lot of eyes, Steve noticed, but Bucky was dedicated to his job first and foremost. It was inspiring to work with him, and Steve loved it when they were paired up for assignments together.

Even if Bucky did get exasperated at Steve's lack of general knowledge or recent history sometimes. Steve knew he needed to brush up on the real world, stop hiding away on secret missions with Shield, or The Avengers. No, Steve wanted to know more about the every day people, _his_ people. No more ivory towers and secret government missions: Steve was in charge of his own decisions now, for what truly felt like the first time in his life.

And the first executive decision he'd made that morning was that he had a lot of grovelling to do. Steve didn't know what time Bucky was due in, but he'd left a small box of pastries from the deli Bucky liked on Bucky's desk.

It was the least he could do after not making their date last night.

Bucky had evidently been busy though, as his story on Nomad had run in time for this morning's paper. Steve side-eyed his other colleagues in the press office nervously before he read Bucky's piece on the front page.

_Who is The Nomad?_

Steve winced at the headline. He'd rather no one found out, actually, because he was enjoying the relative anonyminity Nomad allowed.

_A caped crusader who fights for truth, justice, and the American way. What the people of New York really need right now..._

Steve couldn't help a small smile. The article was pretty complimentary, which was a pleasant surprise.

In his time as Captain America, Steve had gone from bond selling U.S.O. Tours to actual soldier on the frontlines, and a hyped up propaganda machine. Then he'd crashed the Red Skull's stupid plane into the artic, and was frozen for thirty years before The Avengers found him.

His identity had been kept a secret, and the press seemed to have a love-hate relationship with Captain America, and what he stood for, in this new era. Steve had woken in a time of political unrest, of dissatisfied people and grass roots revolutions for basic human rights. After the end of the unwinnable war in Vietnam, the people had had enough, and Steve didn't blame them at all.

The politics and the fighting wasn't the same as it'd been in Steve's time. The more Steve found out about U.S. Government and its wars in the modern era, the less he wanted to work for them at all, and thus, Nomad had been born.

There were good people here, in his hometown, that needed his help too. And, well, Steve had already died once for his country. Was it selfish of him to want a life for himself now, and find someone to share it with?

Steve asked himself those same questions every day, and all he knew was, he was born to help people, no matter where he lived or what he did.

But he also wanted a life for himself: to be close to someone, and when Bucky Barnes walked into the office and looked over at him, Steve's heart skipped a beat every time.

He just hoped he hadn't blown his chances already.

 

At almost nine AM, Bucky came in.

Steve darted out of his chair and headed to the small kitchen to pour a coffee.

Yes, he was prepared to grovel quite a bit today.

When he brought the coffee over to Bucky's desk, Bucky was shedding his coat and bag onto his chair, so he could investigate the box of pastries.

"Um, hello," Steve said.

Bucky looked up and gave Steve a flat, unimpressed look.

Steve smiled nervously. "I, uh, I got you a coffee."

"Hm." Bucky made a show of looking at his watch, then he accepted the coffee from Steve. "A bit late, isn't it?"

"Uh, yeah, about that..." Steve fumbled, as Bucky sat down at his desk and opened his notepad. He looked set to ignore Steve, but Steve pressed on. "I'm so sorry, Bucky. I, uh, I had this sort of emergency."

This earned a look of interest from Bucky. "Emergency?"

Steve nodded, then realised he should be downplaying his story. He couldn't exactly say he had to go help in a hostage situation.

"Um," he said, "yeah, my... my... landlady! She, uh, her cat was..."

Bucky raised one eyebrow at Steve's feeble attempt at lying.

Steve swallowed, and knew he was messing this up. "She... anyway, I'm so sorry. Can I make it up to you?"

Bucky was still looking very unimpressed, but he did quirk a smile. "I'll think about it," he said, then went back to his notes.

Steve stood there like an idiot, unsure what to do. "Uh... great!" he said, far too enthusiastic. "Shall we... uh, did you want to get something to eat later? Like dinner?"

"Steve," he said flatly, "let's get back to work, yeah? I'm trying to land an interview, and I gotta focus."

"Oh." Steve blushed, feeling embarrassed. "Yes, of course. Sorry. I'll just... um." He shuffled back to his own desk, and sat down.

Jeez, Rogers, way to go.

Steve tried to get back into his writing, but he couldn't concentrate. Bucky was making calls, a lot of calls, and getting visibly frustrated.

"Chasing a lead?" Steve asked.

Bucky sighed loudly. "Yeah, and so far they're all deadends."

"Can I help?" Steve offered.

Bucky threw him a look, like he didn't expect Steve to be able to help. "It's alright, Smith, I got this."

Steve smiled. "Big secret, huh? Want to get the scoop?"

Bucky sent him a mild glare. "Yes, I do. You have a problem with that?"

"No, no problem." Steve slunk down into his work again, and decided to leave Bucky alone for a bit. He wasn't usually this cranky, but Steve figured maybe that had something to do with last night.

 

 

By lunch, Bucky was a bit less moody and a bit more like his usual self. He mentioned that he had leads to chase up, and Steve offered to go with him.

Bucky deliberated on it, then agreed.

Steve was ecstatic, and they went down in the elevator together, busy in the lunchtime rush, and headed out onto the street.

"So, where to first?" Steve asked, pulling his jacket on against the crisp New York wind.

"Bus across town," Bucky said. "I have the address of a witness who said she's seen Nomad climbing up and down her building most nights."

Steve almost fell over right there on the side-walk. "Uh, what?" he said, eyes wide. "Surely, she's mistaken?"

Bucky didn't even notice Steve's alarm. "No, she seems pretty sure."

"Right," Steve croaked.

Great, now he'd have to move apartments if his neighbors had noticed him coming and going.

"And, uh, what's the purpose of this lead? You trying to catch Nomad?"

Bucky gave him a perplexed look. " _Catch_ him? Steve, don't be dense. I just want to interview him."

"Oh." Steve felt surprised. "Oh, right. I see."

They walked down the street, and Steve was so busy thinking of how he was going to get out of this tricky situation, he didn't notice a man step out of a small alleyway until he was pointing a gun at them.

"Shit," Bucky muttered, and Steve quickly stepped in front of Bucky, putting himself before the gun.

"Just get in the alley," the thug said calmly, "and no one gets hurt, okay?"

"Okay," Steve replied, equally calm. "Okay. No problem." He began to shuffle around, trying to keep Bucky behind him.

No one on the street even seemed to notice, in broad daylight too.

Steve was astounded.

They were herded deeper into the alley, behind a dumpster. Now they were away from potential witnesses, Steve planned to teach this thug a thing or two.

"Gimme your wallets," the thug demanded, still pointing his gun at them.

"Yes, no problem," Steve said slowly, pretending to reach into his pocket.

"Look, it's a cop!" Bucky said, causing the thug to look away.

"Bucky," Steve tried to say, but Bucky was already diving forward with a kick aimed at the thug's gun hand.

Bucky kicked at his hand, but it wasn't hard enough to make him drop his gun. The thug rounded on them with a snarl, pointing the gun. Bucky cried out, moving to cover Steve's body with his own. Steve was faster, and he pulled Bucky out of the path of the bullet as it fired.

The bullet missed Bucky, hitting the wall behind them, and Steve rolled them both to the ground. The thug ran away, which was a wise decision on his part, Steve thought. Steve looked up to check he was gone for good, then he looked down at Bucky laying underneath him.

"Bucky, are you alright?"

"I will be when you get off me," Bucky groaned.

"Oh, sorry." Steve got up, then pulled Bucky to his feet too.

They dusted themselves down as they walked back to the street. Bucky grumbled, "What an asshole."

"Yeah," Steve agreed. "Are you okay? You nearly took a bullet."

"I thought I had," Bucky laughed weakly. "I don't know why I did that. Not sure what came over me."

Steve smiled, amused and relieved. "Hoping Nomad is gonna jump in and come to your rescue, huh?"

The look Bucky gave him was sheer surprise, before he tried to cover it up. "Don't be ridiculous, Steve. Now, come on. We need to go interview this witness."

"Still want that Nomad interview?"

"Steve," Bucky rolled his eyes, "everyone wants the first Nomad interview. He's the new sensation."

"I see." Steve couldn't help feeling a little pleased about that. But he still had to get out of this awkward situation involving his neighbor. "So... if someone said they could get you an interview with Nomad, then we wouldn't have to trek across town now to interview this witness?"

Bucky scoffed, "Yeah, like that's gonna happen."

Steve smiled quietly, until Bucky looked at him and realised Steve knew something he didn't. 

"Steve," he said carefully, "do you have a contact?"

"I might be able to get you an interview," Steve said, enjoying this moment.

Bucky gaped, his mouth opening and closing like he was trying to find the words. "What... how... Steve! You have a contact for Nomad and you haven't done anything about it?"

Steve shrugged. "He seems like a busy guy."

"Holy shit." Bucky grabbed Steve's arm to get him to stop, and asked, "Can you get me an interview?"

Steve's heart skipped, and he tried to appear casual as he said, "If I can, does that mean I'm back in your good books?"

Bucky grinned happily. "Steve, if you can set me up for an exclusive interview with this guy, you'll be forever in my good books."

"Well, then," Steve smiled, "I'll see what I can do."

 

 

 


	3. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve makes plans, lots of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thank you to [Stucky4Breakfast](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachoDiablo/pseuds/Stucky4Breakfast/works) who kicked my butt onto the right track with this story many times! Thank you!
> 
> ~

 

Steve felt like such an idiot.

Why had he agreed to do an interview as Nomad? There was no way he'd get away with this. Bucky was sure to recognise him, even with his mask on.

How was he going to make this work?

Steve had a silent freak-out on their way back to The Daily Marvel, as Bucky babbled excitedly about interviewing Nomad and tried to press Steve for extra information.

Steve managed to come up with a convincing story of a secretive source who was his connection to Nomad.

It wasn't that Steve was _bad_ at keeping secrets: he'd worked with the S.S.R. and U.S. Army Intelligence, and later SHIELD. But Steve was aware he sucked at keeping things from friends, or from people he had an enormous crush on.

Suddenly all his training and skills went out the window and he became a stuttering mess.

Luckily, Bucky bought the secret source story. All reporters had their private sources that they were protective over. Bucky didn't press too hard, but he certainly did ask a lot of questions.

Steve didn't really sweat thanks to the super serum, but now sure felt like a time to be sweating.

"A restaurant?" Bucky suggested, as they edged past people trying to get into the elevators.

"Don't you think that's a bit public?" Steve asked, his voice hitching a little. He cleared his throat, trying to get into the far corner of the elevator and not take up too much room.

People squashed in all around them, and Bucky pressed himself up close to Steve, because there was nowhere else to go in the cramped elevator. Steve held his breath, but Bucky wasn't even paying attention to him, frowning in thought as he tapped a finger to his lips.

"Somewhere more private," he mused.

Steve swallowed, and tried not to let his mind wander at the prospect of being _somewhere private_ with Bucky.

The elevator went up, and they waited for their floor. As the doors pinged open, Bucky raised his hand in triumph and gasped. "I have the perfect idea!"

"Uh, great!" Steve said, and waited for Bucky to move out of the elevator first before following him.

"There's a hotel a couple block's down," Bucky explained, as they walked across the newsroom, "and the penthouse suite has a balcony. The buildings around it are close, and seeing as Nomad is always leaping around on top of buildings, it shouldn't be too much trouble for him to drop in via a balcony, right?"

Steve blinked in surprise, and started to nod his head. "Yeah, I... I guess that could work. Can you give me the name of the hotel and I'll ask my source?"

"I got it somewhere," Bucky said, as he got to his desk and instantly began rummaging around. He flipped through files and folders, and pulled out a brochure. "Here."

Steve took it, seeing the front image was a fancy looking building near Times Square. The pictures were illustrated though, not actual photographs.

"Uh, it's new?" Steve guessed.

"More like being renovated," Bucky said. "I know the new manager, because the paper wants to rent the penthouse suite when it's finished for that Nixon interview, whether that happens or not." He waved a hand dismissively. "But anyway, it's not even open yet, and I know I can get the manager to let me use the suite if I namecheck the hotel."

"Oh," Steve said, and looked at Bucky curiously. "Uh, so, no other guests?"

"Exactly!" Bucky said with a grin. "It'll be perfect for a more private interview. And the penthouse suite is huge! So is the balcony outside. There's plenty of room."

"Uh... room for what, exactly?"

"Well, you know," Bucky shrugged a shoulder, "for Nomad to come in and show off his moves, and get his picture taken."

"Picture?" Steve had another internal panic. "You're not going to have a photographer?"

"Why not?"

"He probably won't want his picture taken," Steve said, feeling timid.

Bucky huffed lightly, and sat on the edge of his desk. "Is it about having the picture itself, or having a photographer there?"

"Er, I think both."

"Hmm." Bucky folded one hand under his other arm, thinking. "Okay, what about this: I bring a camera. I'll borrow one, and ask him if I can take his picture myself? You never know, he might say yes!"

"Uh." Steve didn't know what to say. Bucky looked so enthused about it all, it was hard to say no to him.

"Just ask your source, Steve," Bucky told him. "Come on. No one's gonna believe I got an interview with Nomad if I don't have a picture to go with it."

Steve suppressed a sigh. How did he get himself into these situations?

"Okay, I'll ask him," he promised.

Bucky grinned happily. "Great! This is gonna be so cool, I have to work on my questions!" He dropped into his chair and scrabbled around on his desk for a notepad and pen. "Jeez, where do I even start?" he wondered aloud.

Steve bit his lip, not trusting himself to reply.

Thankfully he was saved by one of the newsroom runners approaching with a note for him.

"Oh," Steve said in surprise. "Thank you."

He opened the note, as Bucky turned around in his chair to eye Steve closely.

"Is that from your source?" Bucky asked.

"Um," Steve stalled, scanning the note that said, _Harlem calling. It's important._

He folded the note back up and put it in his pocket. "Guess I'll go find out," Steve said to Bucky, giving him a smile.

"See if you can arrange the interview for tonight," Bucky told him, as Steve walked away. "I'll call the hotel now, and I'll be in the suite at seven, sharp!"

"Okay," Steve called back, "I'll ask."

Then he dashed out of the newsroom before he could get himself in any more trouble.

 

 

~

 

 

Steve stepped out onto the street again, intending to head uptown. He needed to get out and do some thinking before tonight.

Steve Rogers, he thought to himself, what have you gotten yourself into?

He decided to ride the subway part way, let the noise of the trains drown out his thoughts for a bit. The platforms were busy, and Steve let himself be pulled along with the crowds.

There weren't enough seats on the train, so Steve stood and held onto a handrail. The train pulled away from the station, and Steve gazed absently out the window.

As the train went through the stops getting closer to Harlem, Steve noticed graffiti scrawled in paint on the walls of the subway.

This in itself wasn't unusual these days, but one bit of graffiti caught his eye: _cut off one head_ , written messily in red paint.

Steve stared at it until the train pulled away, the windows turning black as they went through a tunnel.

He had an uneasy feeling seeing that graffiti, and hoped it was only coincidence.

As the train pulled into the next stop, Steve spotted what had clearly been done by the same graffiti artist in the same red paint: _two more shall take its place_.

Steve set his jaw, and got off the train. He glared at the graffiti as he passed, but he didn't stop. He hurried up the steps of the station, along with other passengers, and walked out into the street.

Looking this way and that, Steve tried to spot anything that would give him a clue as to what the graffiti was all about, but nothing seemed out of place on the street as far as he could see.

He'd have to investigate it later, he thought, walking across the road to catch a bus.

 

Steve got off near a place called Ace's, and walked up to the door.

It was a soup kitchen, and always busy with people who were looking for some cheap or free food, and a place to sit down. The smell of hot food and unwashed bodies greeted Steve's nose as he entered, and headed toward the back where the serving counter was.

A few people said hello as he passed, and Steve smiled at them and said hello back. He volunteered here whenever he could, and recognised a few faces.

When he got to the counter, he saw who he was looking for: Sam Wilson.

"Hey," he said, as Sam looked up.

"Hey, brother," Sam greeted, giving Steve a big grin. "Thanks for coming up here."

"Happy to," Steve said, as Sam came out from behind the counter to give his hand a firm shake. "I needed to see a friendly face. How've you been, Sam?"

"Good, man," Sam said. "All good." He undid the blue apron he had on, revealing his jeans and a green and gold vest with a deep V-cut.

Steve smirked. "Nice look, Sam. Bit flashy for kitchen work, isn't it?"

"No backtalk from you," Sam told him with a laugh. "I should patent it, especially after I heard there's some new guy around town copying my V-neck."

Steve laughed at that, as Sam handed off his apron to one of the volunteers, saying he'd be back in a minute.

Then he gestured for Steve to follow him.

They passed through the swing doors entering the kitchen. Another volunteer was inside, cooking up more soup. Steve said hello to them too, as Sam led him through to the store room where it was empty.

"Got some news for you," Sam said quietly.

Steve leaned in, curious. "A new gang?"

He knew Sam had been working with some new buddies: Luke Cage, and Misty Knight. They were tackling New York's gang problem and the protection rackets on small businesses. Street level heroism, much like Steve was trying to do now.

"Not sure if it's a gang," Sam said, folding his arms. "Word on the street is some neo-Nazi with a red face has been recruiting any two-bit crook who'll go along to his secret white supremacist meetings, and then he gets them to steal and mug for him to fund the whole operation."

Steve frowned. "A red face? Are you sure?"

Sam looked troubled. "Well, no one's gotten a good look at him yet. There's a lot of smoke and mirrors at the meetings, but the only thing we heard for sure was that the guy had a red face."

"It can't be the Red Skull, Sam," Steve said with a shake of his head. "Whatever happened to him, it looked pretty permanent."

"Then it's a copycat," Sam guessed. "Some sucker who thinks he _is_ the Red Skull, stirring up hate and shit. But he's organising fast, man, so we gotta move on it now."

Steve nodded solemnly. "What else do you know?"

"Got a lead on where he's holing up." Sam grinned. "Gonna bust his ass good. You want in?"

"I'm always up for punching Nazis," Steve said. "Just tell me when and where, and I'll help."

"It'll be soon," Sam told him. "We got someone in undercover, and he says they're getting in a shipment of weapons. So we gotta move tonight, before they get their hands on anything."

"Okay," Steve said, then remembered the interview he'd promised Bucky, and winced. "Aw, shit."

"What?" Sam asked.

"Nothing, nothing," Steve assured him. "I got, uh... a date, but maybe I can do that early and come meet you guys after?"

"Yeah, the shipment isn't due until midnight," Sam said, then chuckled. "You'll have to make it a quick date, Steve."

"Alright." Steve nodded. "It's fine, I can do this."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~
> 
> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Kudos and (nice!) comments fuel me!
> 
> I'm also on [tumblr](http://jro616.tumblr.com), come say hi!
> 
> Also here is a [rebloggable post on tumblr](https://jro616.tumblr.com/post/178197469574/jro616-super-nomad-by-roe87-rating-teen) for this fic.


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